Slaves: The Rewrite
by Bananas102
Summary: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood story. What if history was changed and State Alchemists were only human weapons? Slaves that were tortured and made to fight for the military? The Ishvalan war, as well as the toll on familiar characters, would have been very, very different. Rated T for torture and language.


The sniper lay cradled on her lap, her hand rested on the warm metal. Her skin was flushed pink, and a thick sheen of sweat lay on her neck and gathered between her fingers and toes. Above, the sun was unyielding, and its heat showed no mercy towards animals and humans alike.

"Riza? Riza Hawkeye?" The voice was unfamiliar, and it was moments before she realized she had been addressed. She reluctantly set her rifle, both a constant comfort and an endless reminder of things she'd rather forget, aside onto the hot. She would have to clean the sand out it again.

Riza hand rose in a salute before she even laid eyes on the man, an instinct hammered into her by both herself and her commanding officers when she was a military trainee. When she laid eyes on who called to her, she saw it was a superior officer. A tall, lean man with a scruffy beard along his chin, dark, spiked hair, and rectangular spectacles that gleamed under the light.

The man's cheeks grew pink, and he chuckled nervously. One hand reached around to rub the back of his neck. "You don't have to do that, you know," he said. Riza raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Her visitor quickly regained composure, clearing his throat. "Uh, I came here because I believe we have a friend in common. A man named Roy Mustang?"

In a flash, Riza's heart was in her throat. She hadn't concealed her surprise as well as she thought, for she was greeted with a beaming smile. "Roy talked about you!" the man told her, "We were friends at the academy; I'm Maes Hughes." He held out his hand, and after a few seconds of hesitated, Riza shook his hand.

"I'm sorry, Roy mentioned you two were close," Maes murmured, happy expression vanishing. Riza blinked and pulled her arm back. "He's not dead," she said slowly, eyebrows furrowing. Maes didn't respond, but his expression said it all. He'd be better off that way.

She let out a shaky breath. "So he was taken in as a State Alchemist." Riza wanted to be wrong, but when Maes nodded solemnly, the last of her hopes was crushed. Her gaze flickered down to the sand. "Damn it," She growled, her hands curling into fists. Maes licked his lips. "There's something else."

Riza raised her head. Maes' expression darkened, a look that seemed oddly foreign on his face. "The military has ordered all State Alchemists to be brought in to fight."

* * *

Every bump, every dip and every shudder, Roy could feel through the floor. The only light came from the slivers of space between doors in the back, which were chained shut, and the only way in and out of the truck.

The air was hot and stuffy, and Roy had to breathe deeply to pull in enough air to satisfy his lungs. Sweat matted the sides of his hair and made his shirt cling to his back.

He could hear the crunch of gravel under the tires, the rustle of fabric, and wheezing breaths from several of his neighbors. Turning his head, Roy could make out the faces of nearby alchemists.

Their expressions never failed to make his stomach churn, and he had to look away when he felt a sliver of fear constrict his chest. They looked dead. Empty. Their gazes held nothing, because inside, there was nothing. The people that used to be there were gone, and the bodies that remained were nothing more than shells of flesh and bone.

The truck lurched to the side. Roy let gravity pull his body forward, and let it go, his back slamming into the wall behind him. No one voiced a complaint.

Roy's hands throbbed, but he barely registered the pain. Like all of the other alchemists, his hands were tied tightly behind his back. His destructive power was well known, so his gloves were kept under lock and key, as were all other State Alchemist-owned items, and his fingers were bound together and strapped firmly to his palms. Every part of his hands were immobilized but his wrists.

In the corner to his left, Roy dimly recognized the Strong Arm Alchemist, slumped against the wall not unlike himself. The man's lips twitched, as if he were about to speak, but he held his tongue. Only a thin wall separated them from their captors, and no dared to speak to a word. It wasn't worth the punishment.

There were still some that held on to sanity for dear life, like Roy, and for that he was grateful. The thought of being the last one still aware spooked him. But Roy knew he wouldn't last forever, none of them could.

* * *

Their destination was known, and it would be another five days….before they reached Ishbal.

* * *

 **Hello! This is a rewrite; I was a bit unhappy with the original and decided to do something about it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I know it's short, but I wanted to end it here...and the last line is dramatic...I like it...**

 **Anyways, please review! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. :)**


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